


Do you have a better plan?

by SimplyWriting



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, Light-Hearted, The Railroad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyWriting/pseuds/SimplyWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The plan is quite straightforward. Beautiful in its simplicity, really.” James put his arm around Deacon. “I'm going to kill you, Desdemona, and the Railroad. And you're going to help me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The road to insanity begins with the first step

**Author's Note:**

> I will update regularly. I'm new to writing so I welcome all criticism.

“It's no secret that you worked with the railroad in order to first reach the institute. The depth of your involvement with them is being called into question repeatedly. I'm sure you can guess by who. The question is where do you stand with them now. Do you count them among your allies?”

The fluorescent lights of the Institute illuminated the floors below Father's room. It was evening in the Commonwealth, but the CIT seemed stuck in a perpetual state of wakefulness. Always working, always researching. Research that could help the world if shared. Looking at this, James' shoulders heaved as he sighed. 

“I can see where this is going, Shaun. You want me to kill them, don't you.” 

 

“They pose a threat to the Institute and its future, to your future.” Father leaned forward in chair. “It is regrettable that is has come to this, but they are extremists. They will not stop until they or the Institute is in ruins.”

 

James ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. A nervous habit that never quite left. “There's been too much violence already. In the Railroad. In the wasteland. I don't truly think more will fix anything”, he muttered softly. “But, if that is what you think is best, I will. I will not, however, make them suffer.”

 

Father smiled. It was one of relief, one of pride. “Despite their interference, I do not wish for them to suffer. I am confident that the future of the Institute is safe in your hands.”

 

The Sole Survivor rose from his chair. 

“Do you wish to take X6-88 with you? He would prove helpful. I can also the bureau and have him sent here.”

 

A small frown creased James' face. “No. This – this is something I need to do alone.”

 

Father rested his hands on his successor's armored shoulder. “I understand”.

“I promise I won't let you down, Shaun.”

 

Deacon eyed his companion wearily. “So, your going to let him down right?”

James laughed and grinned “Oh absolutely!” A more serious look crossed his face. “It's not going to be easy, but I have a plan.” 

“Already? And here I thought we could spend a nice night together scheming. It's one of my hobbies, you know.” He received a playful eye roll. “But seriously, what's the plan?”

“The plan is quite straightforward. Beautiful in its simplicity, really.” James put his arm around Deacon. “I'm going to kill you, Desdemona, and the Railroad. And you're going to help me.”

There was minute of silence.

“You've been in Tinker Tom's stash again, haven't you?”

“Maybe.”


	2. Alcohol Never Leads To Bad Decisions

The Railroad HQ was currently experiencing rare moment of quiet. Or at least whatever passed for quiet in crowded quarters. Desdemona and PAM were hunched over faded maps planning the next delivery route. Tinker Tom was fiddling with the next MILA in hopes of finally finding evidence of the Institute's nefarious atmospheric manipulations. Drummer Boy was peacefully reclining on an aged couch before the mission while Carrington took inventory of his medical supplies.

Carrington leaned back in his chair. “This is nice.” He whispered himself relishing in sweet blissful calm. Not emergencies or attacks, just calm.

A bang resounded around the room as drunken James kicked a door open, strolling in with a bottle Gwinnet ale in one hand while an amused Deacon followed behind.“Everybody drop what your doing. We are going to take down Institute once and for all! I need all hands on deck! That includes you, doc. It's showtime people!”

Carrington briefly wondered what he had done in a previous life to deserve this. “And what is it that we are doing exactly?” He inquired.

The doctor was met with the gleeful response of “Dying!”. 

Silence filled the room. 

“I'm pretty sure dying isn't how we take down the Institute. The actually sounds a lot like helping them.”

“I'm going to have to agreed with Tom on this one.” Stated Desdemona.

She was met with sarcastic role of the eyes. “I'm not actually going to kill you guys. I just need the Institute to think I've killed you.” James gave Desdemona an innocent smile. “After all, the longer I stay in their good graces, the more information I can gather. The more information we have, the easier it will be to take them down.” 

“How do you plan to go about this?”

Jame sauntered over to Carrington. “I was thinking we could utilize the good skills of our favorite doctor. There's a lot of raiders in the Commonwealth. Some of them have to look similar to you guys. That combined with facial reconstruction should give us look-a-likes.” 

Perhaps he had caused the Great War, pondered Carrington. Surely that would justify this mad man.

“PAM, what are the odds of this working?” asked Desdemona.

“There is 55 percent chance of success.” 

“We'll try it.”

“I'm curious. What's going to be our cause of death? I better have an awesome death. Something dramatic. Explosions, you know, something cool!Go big or go home.” exclaimed Deacon. 

“I was originally planning to kill all of you guys in your sleep with a med-x overdose. It would be quick and painless. You're my friends and I won't want to you suffer”. 

James was met with a hug from Deacon. “Nice to know you care! Only a true friend was contemplate how to kill us so kindly.”

“Or I could just blow the place to hell so that there are no remains. I got to do something with all the extra explosives I've got lying around.”

“Let do explosions. Explosion are good.” confirmed Deacon.

The doctor simply mourned the loss of sanity and peace.


	3. Be vewy vewy quiet, I'm hunting waiders!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All criticism is welcome!

Deacon and James crouched hidden in the bushes. James was smiling at his handy work while Deacon just stared at the eyesore of a contraption. James had called it a “raider cage”. Perfect for attracting the scum of the Commonwealth. It was filled with an assortment of chems. There was Jet, Buffout, and Psycho along with some of the rarer ones such as Overdrive. It was covered is colorful neon signs that exclaimed “Jet here” and “Free Chems” with a blinking marquee sign pointing to the entrance. A few feet away, a generator hummed away. 

“Well, I'm impressed.” commented Deacon. “Do you think it'll work?”

James laughed. “Of course it will! This isn't my first raider cage.”

Deacon thought for a second. “You done this before?”

“I capture raiders and let them loose in an arena. I make them fight each other for their freedom. Winner gets a reward and their freedom, loser dies, and I get to be amused.” 

This earned him a look a disbelief from his companion. “I can't tell if your lying to me or not. If you are, I clearly need to take some lessons from you and step up by game.”

“And if I'm not?”

“I'm going to find you a therapist.”

James shrugged in response before perking up at the sound of voices. There were two raiders nearby staring at the metal cage. 

“Holy shit! Look at all those chems!”

“I know!” There was a brief pause as one of them contemplated the situation. “Do you think it's a trap?”

“Nah. Nobody would be stupid enough to make such an obvious one.”

In bushes, James pouted while Deacon snickered.

“True.” Conceded the raider. The two entered the cage and began stuffing their pockets. 

James carefully crept forward from the bushes and turned off the generator. The sliding metal door on the cage fell with a loud clang.

“Motherfucker!” There was the sound of fists banging against the door. “Forget the drugs, help me get this open!” Barked one of the raiders.

“Dude, we're clearly trapped. Either we get out or we don't. Might as we enjoy it.” The second raider rummaged through one of the boxes. The first one sighed. 

“Pass the Jet.”

James reclined against a nearby tree while Deacon stretched his legs.

“Just got to wait for them to blackout and we can take them back to Carrington.” The Sole Survivor pulled two nuka-colas out of his backpack and handed one to Deacon before sipping his own.

“How can you afford all this? Seriously, there had to be a few thousand caps worth of drugs in there.” inquired Deacon.

“Do you have any idea how much stuff I find? Killing people is profitable!” James grabbed his syringer and began to load it with lock-joint darts. 

“I also make enough jet to keep the entire Commonwealth high.”

Deacon choked on his drink. “What?”

James eyed Deacon before smiling. “I said 'I reinvest liquid capital into small, but growing businesses to support the creation of new jobs throughout the Commonwealth'.”

The Sole Survivor stood up and grabbed his rifle. “Let's get these two back to the good doctor.”


	4. Don't Ask Questions You Don't Want Answers To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I welcome all criticism!

“That so does not look like me.” 

“Deacon, it looks exactly like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does to!”

Deacon gave James an offended look. “You think this thing”, he gestured at the reconstructed raider lying on a stretcher “looks like me?”. It had taken a week, but James and Deacon had managed to round up enough gunners and raiders to replace the Railroad.

“Yes.” Flatly stated James. “Which, if I may remind you, was the entire point of this.”

He gave a dramatic sniffle. “I'm hurt! I am much sexier. I'm like 1000 percent sexier than this wanna-be look-a-like. The Institute will never buy it.”

James rolled his eyes. “Really? I've seen every last inch of you. He looks the same.”

Drummer Boy, against his better judgment, decided to wandered over to the bickering couple. “Why have you seen that much of Deacon?” 

“Well, now that is fun story.” said the spy with a grin.

“One drunken night, whilst we were hiding from deathclaws on a roof, we decided to play strip poker. Deacon lost.” Stated James.

“Or I won, depending on how you look at it.” Supplied Deacon helpfully.

Drummer Boy looked from James to Deacon and shook his head before leaving the two to their argument. “I believe you and I'm sorry I asked.” 

“You seriously think we look the same?”

James gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine! You're right. The corpse on the table is not as sexy as you are.”

Deacon clapped and pointed a finger at James. “Thank you! So, you do think I'm sexy!”

“What?”

“By saying he isn't as sexy as I am, you are, to some degree, admitting you find me sexy.”

James contemplated Deacon's logic for a moment.

“Okay, I do find you a little sexy.”

“Only a little?”

“Fine, I find you to be very sexy. That said, I find all of my friends to be attractive. I'm slowly building a harem out of my companions to keep me amused while I take over the Commonwealth and corner the Jet industry.” Admitted James. 

Deacon was silent for a moment. “I'm your favorite in the harem, right?”

James patted Deacon on the shoulder and smiled. “Of course you are.”


	5. Discord is a beautiful thing

“I was under the impression you were simply humoring Deacon's ego.” Desdemona's disapproving tone cut through the Railroad's base. “Surely you can't be serious about blowing up our headquarters.” James stood in front her seemingly oblivious to the tension, simply smiling. On the table next to them was a stockpile of various mines and missiles. 

“I need to convince the Institute that I have killed you guys. To do so, I need to fake all of yours' death in a convincing manner that would fit my personality. I would never just leave the bodies of my friends to rot!” James exclaimed indignantly. “I, being the kind person I am, -” A snort of laughter earned Deacon a glare. “- would give my friends a grave to rot in. Respect and all that, you know?” 

“You have hypothetical plans to kill and betray us, but neglecting to give us a proper burial is where you draw the line?” questioned Drummer Boy. “What the hell is wrong with your moral compass?”

James shrugged and simply replied “Old world values and all that. Besides, I don't bury every person I kill. You guys should feel honored!”

Carrington turned in his chair to give the Sole Survivor a disapproving look and attempt to steer the conversation back to the initial problem. I'm sure all of us do feel honored that you would take the precious time out of your day to ease your guilty conscience and destroy our home as a means of burying us, but would can we get back to problem at hand?” 

James laughed and walked over Carrington with a smile. Putting his arm around the doctor, much to said doctor's disgust, and cheerfully stated. “Oh Carrington, you know I don't feel guilt.”

There was a short silence in the room as everyone processed that statement. Glory, deciding to break the silence, spoke up.

“We can't lose the church. Not so soon after Switchboard. Where would we even go?” 

“Glory's right. The Railroad needs a base.” Confirmed Desdemona.

The Sole Survivor gave dramatic exasperated sigh. “You guys are no fun. I bet the Institute would let me blow stuff up.” This earned him glares from everyone in the room. “Kidding, Kidding” James held up his hands in defense. “I will get you guys a new, better, base. One with clean beds and actual security. A base you where you aren't bunking with the dead.” He gave the room a reassuring smile. 

“Agent Charmer, what you're suggesting, while it would be nice, would be cost prohibitive. There isn't a feasible way for you or the Railroad to fund this venture.”

Deacon stepped forward. “Des, I know it sounds insane, but he's good for the caps. Apparently killing people is very profitable.” James nodded and smiled. “Also, he's apparently the premier Jet drug lord in the Commonwealth.”

Desdemona's eyes widened. “What?”

“He told me he manufactures pipe guns and sells themselves. And that's why all his settlers have them and there seemed to be a never ending amount.” Flatly stated Glory.

“Charmer told me that the Gunners regularly pay tribute to him so that he doesn't take over the organization.” Contributed Drummer Boy.

“He has been busy! I was told that he hijacked some of the Institute's crazy agricultural and terraforming technology to create mutfruit super-farms.” Added Tinker Tom.

“I was told that he works in Good Neighbor as a one man brothel for the entire town.” This earned Carrington a strange look from the others. “That was his reason for why he apparently needed all of our stimpacks, med-x, and rad-aways.”

“And you just sold him all of our medical supplies?”

“I stopped inquiring after he supplied in graphic detail what occurs on his Friday nights. I don't know if a human or ghoul body can survive that, but I don't intended to find out.” 

Desdemona sat in a nearby chair and quietly contemplated what her organization had become. 

“P.A.M, what are the odds that we will have new base built by agent Charmer and will survive the transition?”

“There is a 98 percent chance for success for the given parameters.” 

Carrington frowned. “And the other 2 percent, P.A.M?”

“There is a 2 percent chance that agent Charmer has actually sided with the Institute and has initiated an overly complicated and unnecessary plan to the destroy the Railroad for his own amusement.” 

“I would never do that!” Protested James. “If I had sided with the Institute, I would be busy tormenting them for my own amusement. Not the Railroad.”

Desdemona finally having enough of this debate, stood up and looked at her members. “P.A.M says that odds are good. Charmer hasn't failed us yet. We go with his plan.” She turned to James. “Give a day to gather our supplies and move to Ticonderoga.” James nodded.

“Deacon will stay and help me plant the mines. Afterwards, we'll meet you there and plan the location for the new base.” James turned to the others. “On a lighter note, think about what you guys might like for the new base. I'm footing the bill so go wild!”

The Railroad's filled with life and movement for once last time. Tinker Tom was storing his experiments in boxes. Glory and Drummer Boy were gathering the ammo that was scattered around the based. Doctor Carrington went to dismantle his makeshift clinic and grumbled about how he had just finished taking inventory. In the middle of the room, James stood and observed the room, thinking about the upcoming chaos the move would cause. Just imagining that impending confusion and chaos that the Railroad would experience absolutely delighted him. Quietly he said to himself with a smile, 

“This is the good life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than one of James' stories were true. 
> 
> I welcome all criticism! I also like external validation from strangers on the internet.


	6. Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down.

“Why haven't you used these?” Deacon commented as he placed frag mines around the base. He eyed a nearby plasma mine resting on a table. “Is there something wrong with them?” 

James shoved a mine into a newly made crack in the stone wall. “I've never quite figured how to use them.” Deacon took a few steps back nervously and James snorted in amusement. “Not like that! I just... never managed to successfully use them. They require a level of patience in fighting I don't possess. I tried a few times, but I mostly just burned or battered. MacCready tried to teach me, but it didn't work out. I offered caps, but surprising he won't take them. Apparently has something to not wanting to part with his sanity or his legs quite yet.” Satisfied with his partner's explanation, Deacon relaxed. 

“So what's the plan for the actual detonation? I love explosions and all, but I prefer viewing from afar. Really helps me appreciate the beauty of the destruction.” Deacon placed a mine on his replacement's body and adopted the classic thinking pose. “There is something very surreal about entombing your own dead clone. I feel like there probably something profound and meaningful that we should take away from this.”

“If there's meaning, it's lost on me. Never did care much fancy literature or writing.” James shrugged. “I wouldn't dwell on it.” 

“Yeah, I guess your right.” He picked up the last mine on the table placed it. “I think that's it.” Deacon looked around the base thoughtfully. “You know, I think might miss this place.” He looked over at his companion and smiled. “It's where we first met. It has sentimental value.”

This earned his a sharp “ha” from James as he rummaged through his bag. “You mean, 'where I first met you'. You stalked me through the entire Commonwealth!” He pulled out a detonator and a bottle cap mine. 

“I was just too shy to introduce myself! I was in awe of your effective madness! That's why I had Desdemona be my wingman.” Deacon bantered as he followed James out of the base. The Sole Survivor planted the final mine outside the door and turned to Deacon.

“It's been a long haul to get this far and I couldn't have done it with you.” He braced Deacon in a firm hug which he reciprocated.

“Aww, I love you too, buddy.”

“You're the best friend I could ask for -” James slipped a syringe out of the blue sleeve of his vault suit and stabbed it into Deacon's neck. He tried to pull back, but James held him firmly. “and thanks to you I have my son back.” Darkness entered the edges of Deacon's vision and his legs gave out under him. James gently lowered him to the ground and sat next to him. Running his fingers through Deacon's wig, he smiled. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, as does the Institute.”

Eyes wide behind his sunglasses, Deacon stared up. “Why?” He asked weakly, the words catching in his throat.

James stood up and looked down at his paralyzed companion who was quickly approaching unconsciousness. With a calm smile, he simply replied 

“Because I can.”


	7. A Father's Love

James stood outside the director's white door with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His vault suit was singed and torn in places with red stains that were slowly turning brown. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot and faint tear stains cut through the grim on the face. He raised his hand and knocked. There were sounds of movement before the door opened. Before Shaun could inquire, James grimly stated,

“It's done.” 

Shaun broke out into a relieved smile before hugging his father. James hugged back and rested his head on his son's shoulder, pressing his eyes close to fight back tears. He took a shaky breath before asking. “I did right thing. Right?” Shaun rubbed his back reassuringly. 

“Of course you did Thanks to you, the Institute is safe. I'm safe.” Shaun looked James in the eyes. “No more pain, no more loss. We can build the Institute together, where it's safe.” This earned him a weak smile and nod. Shaun gestured for him to come in and sit. Slouching in a pristine chair, James pulled out a dusty bottle of scotch and a pair of chipped glasses. 

“I.. I thought we could drink to celebrate our victory. It's probably not as good as whatever you guys make here but..” James trailed off. He looked from the glasses to his son, who was still smiling. Taking a seat across from him, Shaun poured the drinks. Raising his cup, he said

“To the Institute and my father, who will go to hell and back for his child.” They clinked their glasses and took a sip. James leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. Shaun coughed and sputtered as the drink went down which earned him a snort of amused from his guest. “They used to say scotch was better when aged. Clearly, who ever said never tasted 200 year old irradiated scotch.”

This comment brought forth a laugh. “Come on, Son, it's not that bad. Hell, this is quality stuff by Commonwealth standards. Unopened and hardly any radiation.” His son forced a smile. 

“Yes, I see now. The hint of radiation pairs nicely with the dissolved flesh in my mouth. Truly an expert selection.” James smiled and poured another round.

“I see you inherited by sarcasm. I knew it was genetic.” Another round clinked and downed.

“It's a small wonder it wasn't passed on to the synths.” Quipped Shaun. The comment was followed by a round of harsh coughing which James frowned at. 

“Do you want me to go get Doctor Volkert?” 

Shaun leaned back in his chair. “I appreciate the offer, but no, there's not much he could do.” Looking at James, he sighed. “If I was a betting man, I'd wager I won't be living much longer.” He held up a hand to stop James' response. “There's no use trying to sugarcoat it. The cancer's progression is much faster then we had expected. This leads me to my next topic.” He got out of his chair and walked over to his terminal. James followed behind him. “Since you're going to be the next director, it is about time you learned about what comes with the job. They sat in front of the glowing terminal and Shaun typed in his password. “I hadn't shown you this before because I wasn't sure of your loyalty. Your actions, however, proved your loyalty without a doubt.” He motioned at the screen. “This will grant you complete control over the synths and the Institute. It holds all the records of research, allows you to look at cameras all over the facilities, and allow you to give orders remotely. Helpful for when you don't feeling with the day's politics. I've also made it compatible with your pipboy. I can't really envision you sitting behind a desk all day.” 

James put his arm his son. “This is incredible, thank you. I promise I'll make you proud.” 

“I know you will.” Another hacking cough shook his body. “It's getting late and from the looks of it some sleep would do you good.” James nodded and got up. 

“Do you want me to leave the scotch?”

“God no! I appreciate the kind thought, but that scotch is awful. It would find better use as rodent poison.” exclaimed Shaun. James shrugged and packed the glasses and bottle away in his backpack.

“Suit yourself. More for me then!” 

With those parting, James left for his own room in the Institute. Upon entering his quarters, he locked the door and sprinted over to the bathroom. Shoving a couple fingers down his throat, he expelled the contents of his stomach in the toilet. Grabbing a stimpack from first-aid kit, he injected it into a vein in his arm. He stripped himself of his vault suit and entered the shower. As warm water rained down on him, he chuckled softly and reflected on the events of the past 48 hours. It had been a very productive two days.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Deacon groaned as he awoke to a pounding headache and an overwhelming sense of nausea. It took him a moment to remember, but the memories came rushing back to him. Planting the mines, joking with James, a heartfelt hug, and then betrayal. Confessing that he had been working with the Institute. His friend has tried to kill him. Thought of it made Deacon's blood boil. “I've never should have trusted him.” He grumbled darkly to himself

“Regretting the hangover?” 

Deacon's head shot up off the mattress. A move which he immediately wanted to take back as the room spun around him. Looking up, he saw Glory smirking. She bent down and handed him a bottle of water and a syringe of med-x. “When you're done plotting your revenge against our generous benefactor, come on out. Charmer has really outdone himself. You were right, Deacon, he came through for us.” With that, she left the room leaving Deacon to his own thoughts and confusion.


	8. I Just Can't Wait to be King

Early next morning, James was awakened by X6-88. Only after several mutterances of profanity, some of which the synth had never heard before, did he roll over and groggily glare in the courser's direction. The empty bottle of scotch next to him provided some clue as to his current displeasure with consciousness. 

“X6, it's six in the morning. I love your enthusiasm for work, but can we try again in like two hours?” Flopping back on the bed, he placed a pillow over his face. Beneath the pillow came the muffled complaint of “and turn the lights off on your way out. Too damn bright.”

X6-88 looked down at the petulant man attempting to hide from the world under a drool-stained pillow. “Sir, the directorate wishes to speak with you. They said it was urgent.” An overly dramatic sigh came from James. Removing the pillow and sitting up, he grumbled,

“I'm going to kill the egghead that woke me for a meeting.”

–

 

“Director Shaun passed away during the night.” 

James sat in the chair facing the other leaders of the Institute. His eyes widened at the news. His mouth opened and closed trying to get a coherent sentence out. The only response he could manage was a simple “What?”.

Dr. Li gave him a second to process the information before carefully proceeding. “I'm very sorry for your loss. He was a father to the Institute, but he was your son. He was an excellent man and will be well missed.”

Allie Filmore placed a folded white lab coat on the table. “I know this is difficult for you, but we do need to talk about what happens next. It was Father's request that you become the next Director, which you already know. As a symbolic gesture, he also left you his lab coat. In addition, there's the matter of his body. Typically, we cremated our dead, but...” She trailed off.

James took the lab coat with unsteady hands. Gently, he ran his thumb of the slightly frayed stitching that read 'Director'. After a moment of the contemplation, he looked up. “He should be laid to rest in Vault 111. Next to his mother.” Seeing the hesitation on their faces, James frowned. “He was my son before he was your director. Shaun was taken from his mother at the start of his life; let him return to her at end of it.”

Allie sighed. “Give us a day and we'll have you both teleported to Vault 111.”

James stood and nodded. “Thank you. I'll back within 48 hours.”

“What are you doing? The Institute needs to start the transition -”

“The Institute can survive without me for two days. Shaun played an important role, but he didn't manage the day-to-day tasks of the place. If you truly feel the need for my input, here it is: Give all non-essential people the next two days off. Those who take care of keeping the place fed, powered, and medicated are to fulfill their core duties and then relax.” Ordered James. Sounds of protest came from those sitting at the table. “Shaun was important to everybody. Everybody needs time to grieve.”

“You still haven't said what you're doing and where you're going.”

“I need to send word to the nearby settlements that I will be taking a reduced role for the next few weeks and that my right-hand people need to step up.” With a heavy sigh, James made his way towards the door. “Everyone needs time to grieve, myself included.”

 

_

 

Deacon wasn't sure what he was going to find when he left the room, but he certainly didn't expect scene in front of him.

Normalcy. 

Desdemona was inspecting a large map of the common that covered a wall. A map which features notes about locations and warning of dangers which their previous one lacked. On the other side of the room, Tinker Tom and Drummer Boy were enjoying a game of pool. Judging from Drummer Boy's expression, he was losing. Glory was reclining on a red sofa with her feet resting on a coffee table, snacking on potato chips. Deacon strolled over and unceremoniously flopped down next to her. Leaning over, he stole one of her chips and popped it in his mouth.

“So” He said, crunching on the chip, “What happened last night?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don't remember?”

“Of course I remember! I just love hearing others talk about my awesome exploits and adventures.” This earned him a roll of Glory's eyes. 

“Maybe if you hadn't drank so much you would be able to others yourself.”

“Aww, now where's the fun in that, Glory?” She slapped away Deacon's hand as he tried to steal another potato chips. 

“The 'fun' is in not spending an entire day passed out. After you guys destroyed the base, James wanted to – in his own words- 'celebrate the memory of the base where I've met some of my best friends and my favorite stalker'. Apparently, this means drinking and drugs. Among other things.” 

“Other things?”

“I didn't ask. What to grown men do that result in them coming back sticky, drunk, and mostly unconscious is their business. Not mine.”

Deacon didn't get a chance to respond before being interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Honey, I'm home!” Greeted James to room before looking at Deacon. “Did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! I can't believe it been months since I last updated. I am truly sorry about the wait.


	9. The Truth Hurts.

In a side room away from others, James sat across from a glaring Deacon. The sunglasses muted the glare, but the scowl and crossed arms effectively communicated his feelings. James nonchalantly stretched out in the cushioned red chair and propped his feet up on the coffee table. 

“I bought the table. I can put my feet on it if I want to.” He joked. 

Silence.

“Mad at me?”

Deacon's scowl deepened. 

With a sigh, he straightened in the chair and remove his feet. Bending forward, James rested his elbows on his knees.

“I suppose I have some explaining to do, don't I?”

That got a response.

“ 'Some explaining'? You have a whole hell of a lot of explaining!” In a flash, Deacon was out of his chair with his hands grabbing James' vault suit and partially lifting him out of the chair. James didn't look particularly bothered by this and just gave Deacon one of his charming smiles.

“I promise to explain everything. You've been so good, following along with my plans. Ask away. Anything you want, I'll answer truthfully.” 

Deacon released him. James straightened the wrinkles that that formed. Deacon returned to his chair seething. It wasn't that couldn't find a question. It was that he had far too many.

“No questions? I thought this is want you wanted.” 

For a moment, Deacon contemplated just strangling the smug bastard. Eventually, he decided to start with the most important question.

“Is the Railroad safe?”

“It faces no immediate threats. There are none I can foresee in the near future. In case you're wondering, I am not a threat to the Railroad.” 

Deacon squinted at James behind his glasses trying to detect any hint of deceit or dishonesty. He didn't find any.

“Why did you stab me?”

“Stop being so dramatic. It was a little prick.”

“You have a little prick.” He grumbled in a bout of childishness.

“I needed to make sure the Institute believed me. For that to happen, I needed them to see that I killed one of the Railroad. What better way to convince them than to kill my own friend?”

“You couldn't have clued me in?!” Snapped Deacon. “Leave a note or something?”

“There was a lot riding on this. I wanted a genuine undeniable reaction. I got that. The end justified the means.”

“God, you are a psychopath.”

“Socio.” Corrected James. “The term you're looking for is 'sociopath'. Or perhaps 'narcissist'? Honestly, there is some overlap between the two.”

Skipping past the impromptu psychology lesson, Deacon continued.

“Who are you loyal to?”

“Myself, obviously. Most people are.” James thought for a second. “ 'Most people are loyal to themselves' is what I meant. Not 'most people are loyal to me'. Well, there are a lot of people, but that's besides the point.”

“Not what I meant.” Growled Deacon through clenched teeth.

“You should've specified.”

“What was the even the point of all this? The raiders cages, building a new base, tricking me? That alone has cost you thousands of caps and supplies. Why? What is your end game?”

“I...” He paused for dramatic effect and leaned forward close to Deacon. “was bored.”

This earned him a punch to face. James pulled away holding a hand to his now bloody and possibly broken nose. 

“You were bored?! That's what this was about? When other people are bored they do some jet, find a hooker, get a hobby. Normal people stuff. They do not uproot secret organizations and screw with their friends.” 

The raised voice drew the attention of Glory who opened the door and popped her head. “Is everything okay in here?”

James gave Glory a thumbs up without looking at her. “Deacon's upset because I told him why he was sticky. Nothing to worry about.”

“I see.” Said Glory slowly. “I'll be leaving you two alone to work that out. Good luck.” And with that the door closed. 

“And why was I sticky? What did you do?” 

“As I was hauling to back to the base -you're welcome, by the way- a bottle of nuka-cola broke and leaked on to some mentats which made it explode which, in turn, broke other bottles of nuka-cola which leaked on to more mentats. The bottle broke because you are a fatty-fatty two-by-four. Seriously man, lay off of the Fancy Lads and chips. You're getting chunky.”

He leaned forward to poke Deacon's stomach only to hand his slapped away.

“Stop getting off topic and I'm not chunky. It's muscle.” 

“Muscle doesn't jiggle and you're the one who asked the question. I was just answering truthfully.”

“What happened afterward? I can only assume you went to the Institute.”

“Your assumption would be correct. After killing you and dropping your body back at the base, I went to the Institute. I delivered the news to Shaun. We shared a bottle of scotch and I cried a bit over the deaths of my beloved friends.”

“How touching.”

“Woke up, had a hanger, got sent to a meeting, and then I had to make funeral arrangements. Really, who tells a grieving father to make funeral arrangements at six in the morning? That is a terrible way to console person.”

This caught Deacon's attention “Wait, what? Who died?” 

“Shaun did, obviously. Duh.”

“It's not obvious!”

“I told you I poisoned the scotch!”

“No you didn't. You just said you shared a bottle.”

He thought for a second. “I could have sworn I said I poisoned him.” He shrugged. “Silly me.”

“You poisoned your son.” Stated Deacon flatly. “After you were so happy to be reunited with him?”

“Funny story about that actually. But as I was saying, Shaun's dead which means the director of the Institute is dead.”

“And why should I believe you? For all I know you're lying. Again.”

“I'll prove it to you. Meet me at Sanctuary Hills in four days. Don't give me that look. Preston Garvey will be there and you know how he is about me murdering friends. Tell Desdemona and the others if you want. I promise everything will make perfect sense.”

Deacon's jaw clenched as he thought about the proposal. James had drugged him and lied to him. Lied to the Railroad. But he had brought him back to the base instead of leaving him for dead. The base that he had bought and renovated. He had possibly killed his son, a member of the Institute. He had little reason to trust his former friend, but some small part of him want to know the complete truth. If there was one.

“Fine. I'll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the story is coming to a close. There will only be one or two more chapters after this. However, this story shall have a sequel and an off-shoot. The off-shoot will detail some of James' adventures that were described in chapters 3,4, and 5. As usual, criticism and comments are always welcome. :D


	10. Friends?

The following two days at the Railroad's new headquarters were deeply unsettling. A certain unease lingered in the air signaling that untold horrors had yet to come. At least in Deacon's opinion. 

Everyone else around the base seemed positively cheerful. Even Dr. Carrington the chronic killjoy had the occasional smile on his face. With the new base, how could anyone not be happy? There was enough food to keep the Railroad well fed. There were even fresh vegetables and mutfruit. On the fridge was a note from James explaining there would be more fresh food coming via dead drops. On an unrelated note, Drummer Boy had been the first to enthusiastically volunteer to pick up new dead drops. The beds in the base were clean. Or what passed as clean in the Commonwealth. Codsworth was right in saying that nothing truly gets nuclear fallout out of furniture. Their benefactor had even installed turrets, though Deacon half expected them to open fire on the base at any moment. He had even asked Tinker Tom to inspect them only for him to find nothing wrong. He was still suspicious. 

“I'm headed to Sanctuary Hills.” 

Desdemona looked away from the map hanging on the wall. “Charmer's place? He was just here.”

“Yeah well, it's the monthly companion get together AND it's karaoke night. I'm sure everyone would be just devastated if I wasn't there to serenade them with my smooth hypnotic voice.”

Glory looked up from her magazine. “Charmer has a monthly get-together for his friends?”

“Companions.” Corrected Deacon. “People who he has paid, tricked, or persuaded to follow him around the Commonwealth murdering everything in sight and carrying his junk. Except his robot butler, oddly enough. He isn't invited to travel anymore. Charmer didn't say why. But yes, he said it improves 'group cohesion' or something like that.'

Desdemona crossed her arms and gave him a disapproving frown. “Is this absolutely necessary? There is work that needs to be done.”

“Well no, but I figure it won't hurt to stay in his good graces. He did just buy us a new base.”

“You have a point. Fine, go enjoy your boys' night out.”

Deacon stood up and stretched. “If I don't come back in a month, send help. I don't want to get stuck there with Garvey. He's a nice guy, but he has a freaky obsession with marking maps and making people work. Once a person gets started with maps it's a long road to recovery. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

“Right...” Said Glory.

“No, seriously. Come and get me.”

-

 

The journey to Sanctuary Hills was too far to make in a day, even if the traveler kept a quick and steady pace. The journey took even longer if you were a curious spy that could stand to lose a few pounds. With night approaching, Deacon made his way into Diamond City disguised in khaki pants and a white shirt. He simply intended grab some noodles from Takahashi, rent a bed at the Dugout Inn, and listen for any interesting gossip. The local gossip had moved past whether or not the Mayor's secretary was a synth and if Percy was having any sales on brooms. It had turned to the appearance of gen 1 and gen 2 synths in the Commonwealth or rather the apparent lack of them.

“Weirdest damn thing, I tell ya. One day they're at the ruins of the CIT and next they're gone. Not that I'm complaining about the new scrap from the place, but it makes you wonder. Something big must be going on, right?”

Deacon slurped his noodles and listened intently.

“They ain't gone. I heard that they're fighting the green skins. I bet one of mutants found their hideout and told the others. Now they gotta kill all of them.”

“No way, mutants aren't that smart. Where did you even hear that?”

“Mercenary passed through and I overheard him talking about.”

“Probably lying. They like to talk big.”

“And the scavver was tellin' the truth?”

“Point made.”

After that the conversation turned to the prices of mutfruit and the quality of the Bobrov brothers' booze. With no more information available, Deacon headed to the inn. Early next morning he set back out. 

It took another two days, but he made it to his destination in one piece. The settlement had changed since he had last seen it. New guard posts had been set up with armed settlers behind them. On the roofs, turrets chugged away. Sturges, true to his word, had finally finished patching the open walls on the pre-war homes. There were even small individual gardens in addition to the communal one. It was beyond just surviving. It was thriving. The presence of people smiling, laughing, and working together made it almost feel homey.

“State your purpose.” A young guard had a combat shotgun aimed at Deacon's face with his finger hovering near the trigger. Deacon put his hands up.

“I'm here to see James. Take me to your leader.”

Preston came up behind the settler. “Easy there, Cole. He's a friend.” The gun was lowered from his face and Deacon relaxed. Before he could mention his thanks, Preston motioned for him to follow. “The general has been waiting for you. He was getting worried something had happened.”

“Worried about little old me? I'm touched.”

This got him to smile. “He does care for his friends.” After a moment he added, “Even if he does has a odd way of going about it. James' heart is in the right place, I think.”

Deacon contemplated the minuteman's words. “You've never had doubts?”

“Doubts? Plenty. James can be violent, irresponsible, hell maybe even a little insane.”

“But he's still the leader of Minutemen.”

“He can also be considerate, protective, and unbelievably generous. Despite his flaws, I have to admit he's an effective leader.”

The rest of the trip across the settlement was quiet. James was leaning against a guardrail on the old footbridge. He brightened when he saw the pair. 

“Deacon! I almost thought you weren't coming.”

Deacon forced a smile. “Abandon you without warning or even a note? Never.” James winced.

“That sounds like my cue to leave.” Preston turned on the spot and made his way back towards the buildings of Sanctuary, knowing it was better to not get involved. 

“I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” 

James pushed off of the fence he was leaning against. “Come with me, there's something I want to show you in the vault.” 

Deacon narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What's in the vault?”

“Closure.” Stated James simply. “Don't worry, Garvey has seen you. He'll ask questions if you don't return. I'm not going to kill you.”

Somewhat mollified by that line of logic, Deacon began to follow him up to the vault.

“Even if he hadn't, I'm sure you've let HQ know that something is wrong if you don't come back.”

The trip was continued with James rambling about settlements, cool new weapons, and Dogmeat. Deacon followed behind him in a hostile silence. 

“Isn't this descending vault door neat?”

Scowling was his companion's response.

“There's a pristine package of cigarettes in the next room over. Would you like some?”

Glaring.

“I like to wear women's underwear. It makes me feel pretty.”

A roll of the eyes.

“I steal Piper's. She has lacy ones.”

Deacon deigned to respond for no other reason than to stop the conversation from getting any more disturbing. 

“You have more issues than a news stand.”

“Considering that they haven't had any new issues in 200 years that must mean I'm doing pretty good.”  
James stopped. “And we're here”.

Deacon eyed the room. There were rows of cyrochambers filling the room. He peeked through the glass of one and saw a frozen corpse. “Geez, that is creepy. Is there a reason for all this?”

“Yes, there is.” James gestured for him to come over. He pulled a couple levers and a set of pods opened. Inside one was a woman with wavy black hair with a bullet hole in her chest. In the other was middle aged man with white hair. “This is my wife, Nora.” He pointed to the man. “And this is my son, Shaun. The now deceased director of the Institute.” 

“I could believe that this is your wife.” Begrudgingly admitted Deacon. “But why should I believe that this is Shaun? You could have easily killed some guy and put him in here.”

“Look closer. Clean fingernails. No scars, no freckles, no mutations. He's tall, not malnourished.” He lifted Shaun's lip. “Perfect teeth. White and none of them are missing.” James handed Deacon a lab coat that had been resting on a nearby container. “This was his lab coat from the Institute. Look at the stitching.” 

Deacon turned it over in his hands, examining the stitching. He looked at the body and back at the coat. “They look similar.” Commented James. “Looks at the noses, chins, ears. The same.”

Deacon frowned. “They're mother and son.” He muttered to himself quietly. “Why go through this? Why traverse the wasteland looking for your son only to kill him?”

“For revenge that was 200 years in the making.” James firmly stated.

“Elaborate.” Demanded Deacon.

“I never wanted to marry her. She was a one night stand I had when I was drunk. Apparently I got her pregnant. Her father was cop. A crooked one at that. If I didn't marry his perfect little angel, best case scenario I was going back to jail. Most likely scenario, the guy kills me. So, I married her. Not a happy marriage, but I was alive. Then she had the kid, Shaun. She named him, not me. I was suspicious. The kid didn't look like me. One day when she was out with her friends spending my money, I dropped by the pharmacy and got a paternity test. Care to guess the result?”

Deacon stood there in stunned silence.

“Not. Mine. I confronted her when I came back. Didn't work out. It didn't matter if it was mine or not, she wanted me to keep paying for her lifestyle and the kid. If I refused then daddy dearest would have me killed. I wasn't going spend the next 18 years dealing with this.” James continued. “I had planned to kill her, but Kellogg took care of that for me. She forced me into marriage and parenthood. I wanted revenge. I hated her and I hated that brat. So there. That's why I went through all this. Revenge and closure. Judge away.”

It took Deacon a good minute before he could form a sentence. “Holy shit. That is..” The gears in mind whirred before coming to a single conclusion. “exactly something you would do.”

A hopeful smile appeared of James' face. “It wasn't about hurting you, destroying the Institute, or blowing up the Railroad's old base. Just closure and revenge.” He embraced Deacon in a firm hug. “I'm sorry that I lied to you, that I drugged you. I'm sorry for everything I did. You're my best friend. My first best friend. Deacon, you mean the world to me. I will do anything to fix our relationship.” After brief moment of contemplation, Deacon hugged back. 

“I forgive you.” He pulled back. “But, things need to change.” James nodded quickly in agreement.

“Yes, of course. Anything you want.”

“No more lying to me.”

“Done.”

“No more drugging me.”

“I will never to that again without your permission.”

“You'll start going to therapy.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“James.”

“Fine. I'll go to therapy provided that therapists still exist.”

“Don't hide important information that affects me.”

“I'll be open and honest with you. I make no promises regarding anybody else.”

“That's all I ask for.”

James smiled. “Friends?”

Deacon smiled back and grabbed James in a bear hug. “Best friends.”

“Full disclosure time.”

“Don't ruin the moment.”

“I'm the new director of the Institute.”

“What?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of the story. There is going to be a sequel to this and a spinoff. I plan to have both of those up in the next month or so. Until then, I encourage you to check out my other stories. Liked James? See more of him in "Codsworth's Revenge". Want something different not involving him? Take a look at "MacCready for Hire" or "A New Beginning" starring the slightly unstable Eric and his fear of the Wasteland. That's all for my shameless self-promotion. Thank you for reading the story and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't always approve of James' actions and they do not necessarily reflect my own views or opinions.


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